


On Set

by fadedink



Series: Days of Christmas - 2013 [25]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013) RPF
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Snippet, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 03:56:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1102124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fadedink/pseuds/fadedink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a little bit of hanging out on set.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Set

**Author's Note:**

> The 25th Day of Christmas for [becky_monster](http://becky_monster.livejournal.com) because she asked. :)

The steady thumping of the tennis ball against the concrete floor was soothing, far more soothing that one would realize. Max found himself nodding off, booted feet propped in front of him, heavy and battered leather jacket trapping his body heat against his chest and neck.

Then Max (the bulldog, not the man) would let out a loud bark as his claws scrambled against the floor and Rob would laugh. That easily, Max (the man, not the bulldog) would wake with a jerk.

"What?"

Rob looked over, snickered, and reached down to take the ball from Max and toss it again. "How do you do that?"

"Easy." Max shrugged before shifting in his chair. "I just close my eyes. Not like you're the most scintillating company."

"That so?" Rob looked over again, then snorted as he shook his head. "Mate, you're not the life of the party yourself."

"Max there is a better conversationalist than you," Max shot back, a smile tugging at his lips at he tipped his head back and closed his eyes again.

"Hate to tell you this, but the _ball_ here is better at it than you." The ball in question thumped against the floor again.

"That's what she said," Max murmured.

Rob burst out laughing, building from that odd little giggle he had to a full-bellied laugh, and Max (the man, not the bulldog) just smiled while Max (the bulldog, not the man) barked and turned in circles at Rob's feet. "That," Rob said, when he managed to stop laughing so hard, "is just wrong."

Max cracked open an eye, peered at Rob, and grinned. "Says the man who's sitting there with slobber covered balls in his hand."

"That _is_ what she said," Rob dead-panned. His expression never cracked when Max pointed a finger at him and shook it. "Italian or Mexican tonight?"

"Thai. We haven't had it in a while."

"Ooh, good idea," Rob said, flinging the ball for Max to chase once more. "Yours or mine?"

"Mine."

"Great. I'll bring the beer."

"And the ice cream."

"Yeah, and the ice cream."


End file.
